Melt Down
by supergirl3684
Summary: crossover: The Unit/Criminal Minds Hotch is quickly having a melt down. It's up to a friend to save him. WARNING: Contains Corporal Punishment!
1. Silent Call For Help

**MELT DOWN**

_**SUMMARY: (crossover: The Unit/Criminal Minds) Hotch is quickly having a melt down. It's up to a friend to save him**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I so don't own Criminal Minds or The Unit…sad isn't it!?**_

_**BETA: None!**_

_**A/N: Ok, this is the Fic SHOTBOXER and SPARX wanted…I hope you two like it! See, now I'm worried!**_

**_A/N2: For anyone wondering or anyone who doesn't know 'The Unit', Jonas Blaine is played by Dennis Haysbert (some of you may know him as the " All State " guy. Mack (Gerhardt) is played by Max Martini. _**

**OoOoOoOo**

The sound of the phone caused the group of highly trained military men to jump. They shared a look before hiding their expressions under passive faces. The lone officer in the room raised a single eyebrow at his unit leader who shrugged his shoulders.

Knowing there was only one way to make the sound shut off the unit leader answered the phone, "Blaine."

Who ever was on the other end was obviously not saying something the other man appreciated. Blaine's eyebrows were furrowed, "I'll be right there."

The man pocked his phone before looking at his unit commander, "I need some time."

The Colonel looked the man over before nodding. The Unit leader headed for the door, only pausing when he heard one of his men's voice ring out, "Everything ok top?

Blaine nodded, "Aaron decided to pay us a visit."

The redhead's eyebrow shot up, "This could prove interesting."

With a slight roll of the eyes the Unit leader walked out of door and let it shut behind him with a loud slam.

**OoOoOoOo**

He made his way to the local police station all the while trying to calm himself down. He simply couldn't believe it. The man he knew simply as Aaron was not the type to drink his sorrows away and was defiantly not the type to drink and then get into a car and drive! At least he hadn't thought so.

He made it to the station in record time. Walking in he nodded to the sergeant on duty, "Jonas Blaine here for Aaron Hotchner."

The man nodded and, after a brief phone call, Aaron was led out from a back door.

"We're not going to press charges Sergeant Major." The Sergeant told him.

"Thanks Eric," Blaine gave him a grateful smile, knowing full well that a DUI would have seriously hurt the younger man's career.

He hadn't been surprised that the police officer hadn't pressed charges. They knew Blaine well enough to know that the man would handle any first time offenses himself. It wasn't the first time he'd been called to pick someone up, though this would be the first time it was for a non military person.

The older man all but dragged a still rather drunk Hotch out to his truck. Buckling him in place, Blaine started the drive home. He couldn't help but wonder what had driven the younger man to this point.

He _knew_ Aaron! Aaron was the man who was too serious. He was the man who was no none sense. He was the one…

'Damn' Blaine growled to himself. He missed it. He missed every single sign that Aaron was falling apart. Well, he would fix that problem…real quick.

He could still recall the first time he'd met the FBI agent…

**-- FLASHBACK –**

"Where we going top," A younger Jonas Blaine asked his Unit leader.

Ron looked him over, "They want us to train some profilers."

"In what," Blaine asked in disbelief.

The Unit leader gave a snort of laughter, "New SWAT techniques."

Blaine asked no more question as he tried to keep his laughter hidden. The plane ride was short and as painless as the Army could make it.

The two were greeted by a young FBI agent who obviously trying to impress them as much as he could, "Sergeant Major Cheals, Master Sergeant Blaine, I'm Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, it's a pleasure sirs."

The two shared a slide glance before Ron spoke, "It's Ron, Special Agent Hotchner, no one needs to know who we are."

"My apologies sir," Hotch replied instantly, a shade of pink creeping onto his face, "If you'll follow me please."

"Lead the way Hotch," Blaine boomed.

Aaron frowned slightly at the name but said nothing. He had, had several people try and shorten his last name but he'd never allowed it. Now didn't seem like the time to mention that though…not when the FBI was trying to play nice with the Army.

The next couple of days went by quickly and to the surprise of both Unit men, the FBI agents, Hotch especially, quickly picked up on the new SWAT techniques that they were shown.

The real test came the day before the two men were to leave. The results had been bitter sweet. The profiling team had gotten the hostages to safety but in the end they had lost two people and the person they wanted to catch had gotten away for a short while.

They had found him and he had died in a shoot out that cost one more FBI agent his life.

There were no words that could be spoken to help ease the pain of losing team members so the two visitors didn't even try.

Before they left, Blaine had taken Hotch aside, "If you need anything, you call me. I can be here in a plane ride or you can come out and visit me."

Hotch nodded, not speaking; the pain still too raw. Blaine gave a soft sigh, "Why don't you come back with me?"

His offer surprised both of them. Some how, in the four days since their arrival, Blaine had taken the younger man under his wing; had tried to shield him from the pain of being in charge of a SWAT team.

In the end Hotch had decided to stay in DC and so Blaine had gone home. He called Hotch every few days and three weeks after he'd left had shown up in DC…

**-- END FLASHBACK –**

Blaine shut the truck off and helped Hotch out of the truck and into the spare bedroom. He got the younger man onto the bed and headed for the kitchen where his wife, Molly, met him, "Bad?"

"Like the first time," her husband answered honestly.

"What are you going to do?" Molly asked as she looked down the hall where the man was sleeping.

"Handle it like last time," came the honest answer. "Maybe you should go visiting."

Molly nodded thoughtfully, "There were a couple old friends I wouldn't mind seeing again."

Blaine nodded his head, deep in thought. His worry was evident to the woman who still held all his love. "It worked the first time."

"What if it's not enough," the reply held all the worry the man was feeling.

"You might be surprised." Molly gave her husband a quick kiss and made her way to her room to pack.

She was the only person outside of her husband and Hotch who knew what had transpired during Blaine's second stay in DC.

It hadn't been pretty and she was pretty sure it was gong to be worse this time around.

**OoOoOoOo**

Hotch's eyes slowly opened as his brain tried to process where he was. Soft bed…warm, clean blankets…pajamas…

"What the hell," Hotch tried to sit up but the room started to spin so violently that he fell back.

"Wouldn't recommend that if I were you," Came a sarcastic response.

Hotch let his head roll to the side to look over at who ever spoke. The red hair and unshaven face could only mean one thing.

"Mack?"

"So you do have a brain after all huh precious?" Mack's sarcasm took a tighter note causing the other man to wince. "Hell Aaron, what were you thinking? You know what, don't answer that."

Hotch gulped nervously, "Where am I Mack?"

The red head's eyes bulged, "Where were you going?"

"Um…" Hotch's eyes were starting to get heavy, "I needed to see Jonas."

"I'm here Aaron," Blaine's voice boomed from the doorway. "You go to sleep, there will be plenty of time for us to talk later."

Hotch nodded, his brain not taking note of the wording, before he once again fell into an uneasy sleep.

"Jesus Christ Top," The red head's temper started to show, "He could have killed himself or someone else."

"I know." Blaine responded looking down at the sleeping form on the bed.

"Tell you one thing," Mack also looked over at the sleep form.

"What's that?" Blaine asked, finally looking over at his teammate.

"If you don't handle it," Mack started, "I will."

"Oh don't worry about that," The Unit leader promised, "I'll take care of everything."

**_TBC..._**


	2. Drinking and Driving

Hotch slowly woke up and looked around the room. The clock next to him read 10:00 am. His eyes widened as he realized he slept longer then he thought possible. The last real thing he could remember was stopping at a bar and grill for lunch and too many beers and that had been about one o' clock the afternoon before.

He vaguely remembered waking up several times through out the day, and what he now knew to be night, having a headache and feeling sick. He wasn't starving which suggested he must have eaten at some point. The lack of headache meant he took some aspirin. A brief look at his clothes let him know he'd changed at some point too.

As his brain began to fully wake up, he couldn't stop himself from burrowing into the blankets.

"He's gonna kill me," the muttered words were understandable to the man in the doorway.

"Not today," answered the booming voice.

Hotch peaked up from under the covers looking more like a teen about to face his father, whose care he'd stolen, then a seasoned FBI agent, "Hi, Jonas."

"Get up, get showered, get to the table," Blaine kept his eyes stern, "You have fifteen minutes so I suggest you hurry."

Blaine left, not leaving the younger man a chance to speak.

With a soft sigh Hotch did as he was ordered, making it to the table with only a minute to spare.

He didn't look up when he felt, more then heard, Blaine enter the kitchen. The shame he'd felt when he'd woken up had tripled. He knew he'd have to look up soon but he was going to put it off for as long as possible.

Blaine said nothing as he entered, wanting the younger man to stew for a bit longer. He made his way around the kitchen, cooking a light breakfast that that Hotch wouldn't get sick on.

When he was done he placed a plate in front of Hotch with a one word command," Eat."

Hotch finally found the courage to look up into the calm eyes of the older man, "Jonas, I…"

"We'll talk about it later Aaron," Blaine stopped him, "For now, eat."

Hotch nodded his head and quickly ate the food that was before him. All too quickly he found himself done and back in the room he'd woken up in; a still irate looking Blaine standing before him.

**OoOoOoOo**

"Drinking…and…driving," Blaine spoke slowly, enunciating every word. "What were you thinking?"

"I didn't have that much too…" Hotch started.

"Damn it Aaron!" The older man's voice almost bellowed, "One was too many and you know it."

Hotch looked down with a grimace. The disapproval was radiating off the man whose opinion mattered to him.

"Look at me," Blaine ordered; keeping his voice stern despite the worry that was creeping into his heart, "LOOK AT ME!"

Hotch gave a small jump and looked into the eyes of his mentor. "I'm sorry Jonas."

"You're sorry?" The older man asked. "Just what are you sorry for Aaron? Because I don't think you understand."

Hotch's eyes went wide; oh he knew exactly what that last line meant. There was no way!

'Ok, ok, ok, Aaron you can do this,' Hotch gave himself a silent pep talk. 'You're a sectional leader of one the FBI's top units. Who cares if your teams probably ready to shoot you? You messed up; say you're sorry and move on. He can't do anything to you…'

A quick look into Blaine's blazing eyes and gulped before sitting up straight. "I am sorry Jonas. It was a hard couple of weeks and I messed up. It won't happen again."

"You don't understand, do you?" Blaine's voice was uncharacteristically quite.

"Yes I do," Came the all too quick answer.

"You're saying what I want to hear Aaron," The deep voice replied.

"I am to so…" Hotch was once again cut off.

"Enough!" The voice was harsh. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you weren't just trying to defend this to yourself."

Hotch let out a very un-Hotch like growl and refused to meet the older man's eyes. He once again felt more like a teen facing his angry father then a season FBI agent.

"You don't understand," Came the muttered words of the agent.

Blaine had to hide a smile as what could only be described as a pout was on Hotch's lips. "Then make me understand."

When Hotch remained silent, Blaine decided he'd had enough. Before the younger man could even process what was happening he found himself face down, his upper body supported on the bed, the jeans he'd put on that morning were at his knees.

"Jonas, let me go," Hotch was trying to hold back the panic that was threatening to spew forward.

The older man remained silent as he repositioned the body over his knees.

"Damn it Jonas, I'm not kidding! Let me go!" Hotch demanded, trying to push himself up by using the bed for leverage.

His attempts were halted when a large hand suddenly landed on his backside…hard.

"OW!" The younger man couldn't hold back a yelp. His struggles intensified. "You can't do this! I'm not a damn little kid!"

"No, you acted like a disobedient teenager, throwing a fit," Blaine clarified. "And every time you do, this is what happens. I didn't let you get away with it then and you're sure not going to get away with it now."

"What do you care?" Hotch's voice was thick with unshed tears.

"I care because I know that type of man you can be." Came the answer.

The first of what was to become many tears, slipped down the younger man's face.

Blaine gave his young friend a worried look. He could feel the heat radiating off the boxer clad backside, his own had was stinging but still Hotch remained silent.

Hotch's only warning was a soft sigh emitted by the older man. He soon found his boxers brought to join his jeans and he began to buck wildly. The action was stilled when he felt the flat, cool feel of what could only be a brush on his now bare backside.

"No, please," He felt Blaine grab his wrist and pin it to the small of his back.

Blaine raised the brush and brought it down with a resounding smack.

"You do _not_" _**Smack, Smack**_ "drink and drive;" _**Smack, Smack**_ "ever!" _**Smack, Smack**_ "You do _not_" _**Smack, Smack**_ "try and make _excuses_" _**Smack, Smack**_ "for yourself after getting caught." _**Smack, Smack**_ "If I _ever_ find out" _**Smack, Smack**_ "you pulled a stunt like this again," _**Smack, Smack**_ "you will _not_" _**Smack, Smack**_ "like the consequences." _**Smack, Smack**_ "Do you understand me?" _**Smack, Smack**_

"L-loud and cl-clear; please J-Jonas, no more."

Feeling the smacks being targeted at the tender under curve, Hotch finally gave up all pretenses of staying strong and hung his head and sobbed.

With a couple more smacks, the older man ended the punishment. He quickly (and gently) pulled up the boxers and jeans so as to not embarrass the younger man any more then necessary.

When Hotch's sobs subsided Blaine helped him stand up and pulled him into a hug. Blaine could tell that even with almost eighteen hours of sleep, Hotch was still rung out.

He released his hold and, after a quick look through the younger man's luggage, handed said younger man a pair of sweat pants.

Hotch didn't bother to argue as his headache was back and he knew that it was pointless. Having learned from experience, he knew the only thing protesting would get him was upended once again.

He quickly changed into the sweat pants he was handed and didn't bother to fight when Blaine handed him one of his own shirts.

Once done Hotch crawled into bed, lying down on his stomach. He would yell and scream at Jonas when he woke up for what he did. Right now…right now he just didn't have the energy.

He felt the blankets being pulled to his chin and he looked up through red tear stained eyes, "I'll leave tonight."

"Go to sleep Aaron. You'll be staying here for awhile," Blaine's voice was once again firm. "Don't think we're done talking about this."

Hotch's eyebrow's furrowed…_now_ he was worried.

_**TBC…**_


	3. Rules Galore

Hotch burrowed farther into his blankets. He wasn't gonna wake up! He wasn't! He wasn't! He wasn't! There was no way he was going to wake up and face Blaine. None…zip…zilch…

"I'm awake!" Hotch shot up, off the bed as the blankets were roughly pulled away from him. The last time Blaine had done that, he'd gotten swatted a half dozen times with the promise of an even dozen if he didn't get up when he was told.

"So I see."

Hotch started to blush as he realized that it wasn't Blaine who pulled the blankets back.

"Mack," Hotch grumbled, trying to keep his embarrassment from showing.

"Top, said you have five minutes to freshen up and get to the kitchen." Mack informed him, his steel gaze unflinching.

Hotch nodded but said nothing until Mack started to leave the room, "I'm sorry Mack."

Mack stopped in his tracks, "Are you really Aaron? Do you even realize what could have happened?"

Hotch nodded but remained silent. He really hadn't meant to worry anyone. Then again…he hadn't even realized how much he had to drink till after the fact. He looked up once to see Mack staring straight back at him; he looked down again.

Mack said nothing. He simply stared at the younger man in wonderment. The first time he'd ever met the FBI agent there was an instant dislike; one that couldn't be explained. It had gotten to the point that Blaine hadn't allowed them together…that had happened after one particular fight had ended up with Mack banished to the cleaning cages for a month and Hotch upended as soon as Blaine got him back to his house and again that night before bed.

When Hotch had wormed his way into Mack's life, neither man was sure. It had happened none the less.

Knowing what the agent had done had put a fear into the army man's heart that it had been more then slightly unnerving. He wasn't used to worrying about anyone outside his family and the team.

Hearing a soft sigh come from the other body in the room, Mack withdrew from his thoughts. He knew that Hotch wasn't ready to accept responsibility for what he'd done but he also knew that Blaine would be handling it.

He advanced on the other man and gripped his chin in his callous hand, "If you _ever_ do that again, I will handle it myself, Blaine or no Blaine; got me?"

"Got it," Hotch replied knowing to say anything else would be suicidal.

"Better hurry," Mack released his hold, "You're down to two minutes."

Mumbling under his breath about annoying red heads, Hotch rushed about to get ready for the day.

**OoOoOoOo**

Hotch scrambled into the kitchen as Blaine was counting down, "You have 10…9…8…7…you'd better be _in_ your seat…4…3…2…"

Hotch gave a sigh of relief as he made it to his seat with a second to spare. He threw a glare at the red head who smirked, grabbed a piece of chicken from a plate nearby.

"Well my job is done," Mack gave his unit leader a mock salute with his food, "See you later Top."

Blaine gave the red head a slap on the shoulders with a grin while Hotch glared at him as he tried to tuck his shirt in while sitting down which was hard to do considering his backside was still sore. He hadn't had enough time to get dressed; in fact if his friend were to look, he would notice that Hotch hadn't even managed to get his shoes on right.

Blaine put the food on the table, saying nothing about the fact that Hotch was still, obviously, trying to get ready for the day, while sitting down at the kitchen table.

When he sat down he stared at the younger man, "If you're done."

Hotch had the good graces to blush, "Sorry Jonas."

As with breakfast, the meal was eaten in silence. This time, when they were done, Blaine had Hotch help clean up. With that done, the older man grabbed two mugs, one with coffee and one with tea, and sat back down at the table.

"How long do you have off?" The question startled the younger man.

"Um…" Hotch stumbled, "just a couple days. I should be heading out in a little bit."

"Do I look like a fool to you Aaron?" Blaine demanded. "Last chance boy; how long do you have off?"

The FBI agent's eyes darted around the room, settling anywhere but on his friend, "I told you I only had a few days. We've been busy."

Though it wasn't really a surprise it was a shock to Hotch's system to find himself being hauled out of his seat and tucked under an arm before harsh swats rained down on his backside.

"Let's try this again now that I have you in this position," Blaine's voice was stern. "How many days off do you have Aaron?"

"OW! Jonas, let me go," Hotch demanded.

Blaine tsk'd, "Probably shouldn't be yelling at me right now friend. You've got three seconds to answer my question. One…"

That was as far as he got before the younger man, backside freshly ablaze, replied quickly, "Twelve days."

"Now," The swats ended but the younger man wasn't released, "do you think you can answer my questions the right way or should we keep this up?"

"I'll answer them truthfully," Hotch promised.

With two final swats that made the younger man yelp, Blaine warned, "Lie once and we're going to your room to have a full discussion."

Hotch nodded his head in silent understanding before gingerly sitting down on the wooden chair before him at the older man's bidding.

"One more time," Blaine kept his voice even, "How many days do you have off?"

"Twelve," Came the quick and honest answer.

"And you've used how many days up so far?" The next question came just as quickly.

"Two," this time the answer came out in a faint whisper that very unlike Hotch.

"What was yesterday about?" Blaine asked with a frown. He knew this was his one chance at getting his friend to answer his questions. As much as he wanted to help Hotch, he needed to know what was wrong first.

Hotch shrugged his shoulders not wanting to answer. At least he didn't until he saw the older move as if to stand.

"I honestly, don't know." Hotch answered quickly, halting his friend's movement. "I was hungry and stopped to get something to eat and decided to have a beer."

"How many beers did you have?" Came the deceptively calm question.

"Just a couple," Came the obvious lie of an answer.

"You had more then 'just a couple' Aaron!" Blaine ground out through clenched teeth as he handed a slip of paper to the man sitting across from him.

Hotch took the paper slowly, biting his lip. His mind didn't process everything on the paper…just a few words that popped out at him.

_Bud Light 4_

_Tequila Shots 3_

_Appetizer _

Hotch closed his eyes; if he wasn't dead before he was now.

**OoOoOoOo**

"Look at me," The order was stern. Hotch glanced up but he kept his head down. Blaine wasn't having it, "You will show me the respect I deserve. Look at ME!"

The younger man's head shot up, his eyes meeting his mentor's for the first time.

"One beer, I wouldn't have said anything, two beers and I would have frowned, three beers and you would have heard from me but four beers and three shots!" The older man's voice boomed. "Damn it Aaron, you know you shouldn't drink that much. What the hell were you thinking?"

The younger man looked down again. What was he thinking? He didn't know. Or maybe that's what the problem was…he was always thinking. Thinking about how Gideon left, how his wife left and took his son, how Elle had left, how Reid had been kidnapped…

"Look at me Aaron," Blaine's voice was calm but stern.

Hotch did as he was told; his eyes unsure. Once again he looked more like a teen facing a disappointed father then a seasoned FBI agent.

Blaine sighed softly, "Fine; we'll do it your way. Follow me." The two walked to the living room where Blaine pointed outside. "You don't go past that sidewalk; you go no further then our backyard. If I'm not here you don't leave the house; period. You'll be here for at least seven of your ten days. Consider yourself grounded; no TV, no movies, no computer, and I'll have your phone."

"But work…" Hotch protested even as he handed his phone over.

"I'll let you have it _if_ it's important," Blaine interrupted. "You'll eat all three meals and you will eat all the food on your plate; no drinking. As an FBI agent I'm sure you know all sorts of laws about drinking and driving; I want a ten page report on the laws per state about drinking, about drinking and driving, the consequences for drinking and driving, and why you won't be doing it again. If you don't remember or have questions I'm sure the library will have the info you need. If Mack or I can't take you, I'll get the new guy too."

"That's bull," Hotch spat out.

"Which leads to the next part," Blaine smiled evenly, "No cussing, no talking back, and no showing disrespect. You will be on your best behavior while you're here. If you continue to act like a spoiled teenager then I will treat you like one. You will obey me without question or you will face the consequences."

"Gonna give me a bedtime too," Hotch mumbled to himself.

"As a matter of fact I am," Blaine answered the rhetorical question. "You will ready for bed by nine in your room by ten and lights out at eleven."

"There's no fucking way I'm following those rules!" Hotch yelled as he lost all control of his temper.

"Excuse me?" The older man stood to full height.

"Jonas, I'm not a little kid," Hotch backtracked but it was too late.

"I think you're still tired so you should be in bed by eight tonight. For now, you can stand in the corner while I calm down," Blaine's jaw was clenched tight. "And you just guaranteed yourself a spanking before bed."

"Jonas I…" Hotch was silenced with a firm swat.

"Now Aaron," Blaine used his no nonsense tone.

Hotch could do nothing more then go to the fore mentioned corner and let his forehead rest against the cool wood.

It was going to be a _long_ week.

_**TBC…**_


	4. Finding Peace

**-- 5 DAYS LATER -- **

Hotch stared at the man who towered over him with a shy grin, "Thanks for everything Jonas."

"Everything huh?" Blaine asked with a raised eyebrow.

Hotch blushed, "Maybe not _every_thing."

A snicker was heard from behind and Hotch quickly flung his elbow backwards, grinning when he heard an 'oomph' from the same person that snickered.

"Oops," he grinned, giving an apologetic shrug to Blaine.

Blaine rolled his eyes, "One more time; rule one?"

Hotch stilled the groan on his lips as his backside gave him a reminder of why it was a bad idea to talk back to the imposing man in front of him. Instead he answered, "No drinking and driving."

"Two," Blaine prompted.

"No drinking," Hotch answered. Seeing the expected look from his mentor he continued, "Three, no all nighters; four, I call you every Friday; five, either I visit you or you visit me every other month; six, call you the moment I feel out of control."

"Good boy," Blaine smiled approvingly.

Hotch rolled his eyes but it was evident to his friends that he was secretly pleased. It had been a hard week for the FBI agent. Then again, it always was when Blaine took all control away from him.

Like the other couple times it had happened, Hotch had bucked wildly at the restraints in place. He had always been in control and when it was taken from him he didn't know how to react. But his friend knew this and never reacted in a negative way.

The outcome was always the same too; in the end, though, having to not worry about being in control, helped Hotch become more in control. He didn't question it…well, there were times he wanted to question Blaine's _method_ but he never dared to do so.

He wasn't sure how many more times he could be upended in a week. Oh yes…it had not only been a hard week, it had been a _long_ and _painful_ week.

For now though, the week was over and Hotch was going home…nervously.

"You'll be fine pup," The red head spoke.

Hotch leaned into his 'brother's' embrace, "What if they hate me?"

"I doubt they hate you," Blaine put his two cents in. The young man was passed from one to the other. Blaine hugged him close. "You apologize and you promise not to let it happen again." Blaine cupped Hotch's chin in his hand, forcing the younger man to look at him, "And if you do, do it again, you best be prepared to pay the full penalty."

Hotch blushed, "Got it Jonas."

"See that you do little boy," Blaine gave him a stern look.

The FBI agent had to hide an eye roll at the 'little boy'. Really, could Blaine not tell that he was no longer a rookie trying to prove himself? He was now a seasoned FBI agent and leader of one of the…

"Mmmph," Hotch glared at the red head who had suddenly slapped his hand over Hotch's mouth.

"Now would be a bad time to sing _that_ song," Mack stared back at him hard until he saw recognition light the younger man's eyes.

Hotch had the good graces to blush, "I didn't say anything."

The two older man shared looks but said nothing as the heard the page for their friend's flight.

With a final hug, Hotch handed over his ticket and walked onto the plane. He was once again grateful that between them, they had enough pull to get Blaine and Mack permission to travel as far as the gate with him.

As he settled in his seat, trying to keep from shifting too much, he thought back to three days before…

**-- FLAHSBACK –**

Hotch stared at the wall, mentally berating himself. Was it really that hard for him to give a straight answer when Blaine asked a question?

"You calm now?" A voice sounded from behind.

"Go to hell," Hotch spoke clearly before closing his yes. Yup, apparently it _was_ too hard to give a straight answer.

"OW!"

Hotch frowned as he gave a quick rub to the right side of his backside which had just been smacked before rubbing his forehead which had hit the wall when he had jumped from surprise at the smack.

"Turn around," Blaine ordered.

Hotch slowly did as he was told, silently biting his inner cheek in worry.

Blaine held out a cell phone. "You are going to call Special Agent Rossi and apologize for not telling him that you were taking additional time off and for not telling him where you were going. You are going to promise not to do again; a promise, I might add, that I _will_ hold you too. Then, we are going to talk about what's bothering you. Ah-ah," Jonas held out a finger in warning when he saw his friend start to protest. "You will talk or _I_ will start the conversation. Remember, though, if I start the conversation, it's not over until _I_ say so."

Hotch glared at the phone before taking it. He silently cursed Rossi. The day _had_ been going better then the others but _noo-oo_ Rossi had to call and ruin it all.

Of course if Hotch had just told his friend that he needed to call work once he remembered that he had told Rossi he'd be gone for only a few days Blaine would have been none the wiser.

But that was too hard for him to do. So instead, he'd done nothing; allowing himself to forget about his obligations…until he heard a familiar ring earlier in the day.

He'd been working on the ten page report and, knowing that Blaine would never allow him to answer the phone, had ignored it.

He, of course, couldn't ignore the irate Blaine that had stormed into the kitchen demanding to know why he hadn't told anyone where he was or how long he'd be gone. The 'why the hell would I tell anyone' that came to Hotch's lips slipped out which had led to some yelling, some swatting…and the younger man being put into the corner.

Hearing a 'yeah' on the other end of the phone Hotch shook himself out of his thoughts, "It's Hotch; I was told you called…uh huh…I'm at a friends…did you need me to come back? Ok…yeah…I'll be home in a few days…yeah…I gotta go"

Hotch glanced over at his friend and read the look he was getting. With another sigh he added, "Sorry I didn't tell you…uh huh…yeah…I'll remember next time…thanks for calling…bye."

Hotch glared as Blaine and thrust the phone back at him, "There; happy now?"

"Ecstatic," Blaine answered, staring at his friend hard. "He was worried about Aaron."

Hotch couldn't stop the scoff that came to his lips. He knew he was once again acting like a petulant teenager but he couldn't stop himself.

"So he shouldn't be worried by the fact that he hadn't heard from you?" Blaine asked.

"Yeah he was real worried Jonas," Hotch spat out before storming to his room and throwing over his shoulder, "He waited until I was three days over due before calling."

"Aaron," Blaine started, trying to keep his voice even.

"No!" Hotch growled, spinning around and glaring at his friend. "I don't give a damn what you think!"

With that he turned and once again headed for his room.

**OoOoOoOo**

He entered and started to slam the door.

Blaine followed on his heels, catching the door before it could slam shut, "I'm getting real tired of your attitude little boy."

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Hotch exploded. "I'm not some rookie trying to prove myself! I'm a seasoned FBI agent; treat me like it!"

"Then act like one," Blaine's voice was surprising gentle. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on in that mind of yours Aaron."

"Why should I?" The younger mans' eyes had tears. "No one cares anyways."

"I care," Blaine's voice was firm. "TALK…TO…ME"

"NO!" Hotch could only watch as he picked up box and chucked it across the room. He didn't stop as he spun around and started to grab his stuff, wanting and needed to get out.

Blaine wouldn't let it happen. He grabbed his friend's bag and held it away from him, "You're not going any where."

"You can't keep me here!" Hotch took a running start at his friend.

Blaine saw it when it happened…the moment when Hotch lost all control.

Before the younger man knew what was happening he found himself face down.

"Let me go! You can't do this!" He hollered. "I hate you!"

"Hate me all you want," Blaine informed him, "You're not leaving until you've talked."

"LET ME GO!" Hotch continued to thrash about, stilling only when he felt his jeans and boxers being lowered to his knees, "Jonas…let me go."

"Not gonna happen son," Jonas lifted a hand and brought it down with a resounding swat.

Hotch continued to buck but Blaine's aim was dead on each time. It didn't take long before Hotch stilled, silent tears running down his face.

"I know," _**SWAT, SWAT**_ "you're upset," _**SWAT, SWAT**_ "but that doesn't" _**SWAT, SWAT**_ "give you the right" _**SWAT, SWAT**_ "to behave the way you are." _**SWAT, SWAT**_ "I care about you" _**SWAT, SWAT**_ "whether you want me to" _**SWAT, SWAT**_ "or not." _**SWAT, SWAT**_ "I'm _not_ going," _**SWAT, SWAT**_ "to let you," _**SWAT, SWAT**_ "self destruct." _**SWAT, SWAT**_ "You tell me" _**SWAT, SWAT**_ "when you're ready" _**SWAT, SWAT**_ "to talk." _**SWAT, SWAT**_

Blaine's hand continued to fall until finally Hotch spoke, "I-I'll talk! Please J-Jonas!"

"You're gonna tell me" _**SWAT, SWAT**_ "what's bother you" _**SWAT, SWAT**_ "_without_" _**SWAT, SWAT**_ "lying to me?" _**SWAT, SWAT**_

"Ye-es!"

A particularly harsh swat fell, "Are you yelling at me little boy?"

"N-n-no s-sir," Hotch quickly answered through his tears.

Hotch gave a short cry when he felt his clothes being righted even though it was done as gently as possible. Blaine quickly righted him, holding him close and making sure the younger man's backside didn't touch anything.

"Aaron?" His voice was gentle.

"I…I can't do it anymore Jonas. I'm not strong enough anymore." The younger man's words poured out unstopped. "It's all too much. First Elle, th-then we almost long Morgan, a-and th-then…"

"Breathe for me kiddo; come on," Blaine soothed.

Hotch took a deep breath before continuing, "W-we, I-I failed R-Reid and then Gideon l-left. I can't do it; please don't make me."

Hotch scrambled to get up but Blaine held him close, "Settle down Aaron."

When that didn't work, Blaine did the only thing he could think of. He angled Hotch slightly and brought his hand down to meet the tender backside. Hotch let out a yelp but settled down.

"What happened son?" Jonas asked, worry in his face.

Seeing the expression and hearing the words, the rest of Hotch's walls crumbled as he slumped against the man who he thought of as a father. Slowly the words came out…how Reid's behavior had changed…how the case they'd just finished has brought out the bad side of Reid's personality…how all of them had just shushed him and not offered words of comfort or wisdom…how he'd gotten mad when Reid refused to go to the graveyard with them…and how he'd watched as Reid stood in front of the teen gunman, blocking his teams shots.

"He could have died Jonas," Hotch continued through his tears. "All I kept thinking about was how I was going to tell Gideon I got his son killed."

"That wouldn't have been on you," Blaine protested.

"I promised," Hotch sobbed, "I promised Jason I would look after him. I had to tell him that I would…that I would fire him if ever did it again and then I got mad…"

Blaine closed his eyes, "What did you do?" Hotch refused to look his friend in the eyes. Blaine grabbed his chin in his hand, "Aaron Eric Hotchner, what did you do?"

Hotch looked at him, fear in his eyes, "I started to yell at him when we got back and – and then Morgan told me to back off and – and then he told everyone to g-go home. I…started to yell at him…th-then – then I – I p-punched him."

The ending result came out in a whisper.

"You did what?" Blaine's voice was deceptively calm.

Hotch's mouth opened and, when no sound was forthcoming, shut. He refused to meet Blaine's eyes. The guilt was pouring off of him and waves.

Blaine held in a sigh. He wanted the younger man to forgive himself. He also knew it was an impossible task. With that thought he upended him one more time, this time leaving his clothes in place, and began to swat the up turned backside.

"You do _not_ take your frustration out on anyone for any reason. If you have a problem you talk it out, you come to me, or you go to the gym. Solving a problem with your fists is _never_ an answer."

"Jonas, plee-eease! I'm sorry!" Hotch cried out after the fourth swat. "I won't do it again!" After several more swats he went limp over the older man's lap and sobbed.

Blaine finished up quickly before righting him again. "It's ok boy. I got you."

With that Hotch allowed himself to fully relax into the hold of his friend. His sobs soon quieted as he fell into a deep sleep for the first time since his altercation with Derrick Morgan.

**-- END FLASHBACK –**

The bumpy landing caused Hotch's sore backside to come in contact with the seat harder then he would have liked which in turn brought him out of his reverie. He bit back a yelp and instead settled for a slight grimace.

'Damn Mack and his bright ideas,' Hotch growled to himself.

If he had been honest with himself he would admit that Mack was only half at fault. He wouldn't be so sore if he hadn't fought Blaine on calling Morgan the morning before.

Not that it had been an overly long 'conversation.' Nope, Hotch may be many things but he wasn't stupid; he'd conceded defeat shortly after it started.

He'd gotten a worse spanking later that night after he and Mack had pulled a rather splendid prank…but that was a story for another time. For now he got himself off the plane and home. He had to be at work the next day…he worried about his team's response to him.

**EPILOGUE:**

Despite reassurance from Morgan that no one on the team knew what happened, Hotch was worried. He'd been so out of control at the time he hadn't realized that everyone had, at Morgan's order, gone home. He still didn't know what kind of mark he'd left on the man he considered a friend.

Taking a deep breath, Hotch entered the bullpen. He kept his head held high as he made his way to his office, going neither fast nor slow.

Morgan stopped him halfway, "Wondering when you were coming back. Rossi's been driving us nuts."

Hotch smiled, trying to keep his nervousness at bay, "He gets like that."

The two men were aware of the eyes on them. Morgan looked his boss up and down and gave a nod of…approval?

"There's a game Friday," Morgan mentioned. "I have an extra ticket."

"I know a designated driver," Hotch replied.

He gave a nod before finishing his walk to his office. On his desk, laid the case files, in order, all finished by neat precise handwriting…stickers where his signature was needed.

"We got a case," a voice spoke from the door.

Hotch looked up and nodded his understanding, "And Morgan…" Morgan stopped and looked at him, "Thanks."

Morgan nodded before leaving.

Hotch stood at his door momentarily…he was back in control.


End file.
